


Grace

by koldtblod



Category: The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: Canon Continuation, Episode 2, F/F, Love a good cry tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22336378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koldtblod/pseuds/koldtblod
Summary: "From the minute I put myself in between you and that gun," she says, "these kids have looked to me, and now they're clinging to the idea that I know what I'm doing. But I don't."
Relationships: Clementine & Violet (Walking Dead: Done Running), Clementine/Violet (Walking Dead: Done Running)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 69





	Grace

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno what this is. Telltale fucks me up. I love Violet and Clem. I've got a lot of feelings.
> 
> For argument's sake, Abel and Clem never crashed through the window lmao. Also wrote the majority of this just after the release of Episode 2 and it’s honestly taken me that long to complete.

There's a chill emanating from beneath the closed office door. The night seems to have grown colder in the few hours since Violet and Clementine were sat on the rooftop, counting constellations, and the mood has changed too. Louis, Omar and Aasim are gone, and Mitch is dead, and Violet isn't so hopeful anymore. What previously could have been disguised as nerves or anticipation – or hell, if she's honest, coarse fear itself – has been replaced and warped into something much darker.

Violet would like to be strong, but instead all that she can feel is dread.

Now there's blood on the sleeve of Clementine's jacket. Violet doesn't know who it belongs to. It's splattered over the back of Clementine's elbow and reaches right up over her shoulder, and has matted a few strands of her fringe together at the front beside her ear. It hangs down in front of her eyes as she stoops over the map on the desk, and scribbles her frantic notes here and there, back and forth.

Clem has circled a large section of the forest in red. It's where she and AJ had been left, and where the raiders had tried and failed to capture them.

Violet tries not to think about it.

She lifts herself out of the office chair and traipses across the room. At least, for the most part, their friends are safe for tonight. Elsewhere, in their bedrooms and in some cases, each other's, they're sleeping – or are supposed to be. Most likely Violet knows they'll be staring towards their ceilings into the darkness, and trying to make sense of the evening in their own way as she paces in front of the office window, and keeps half an eye over the gates just in case.

It crosses her mind, if only for a fleeting moment, that Marlon wouldn't have let this happen. Marlon – who always seemed to have a plan – who had given two of their closest friends away to the raiders, without so much as a backward glance, and gotten away with it.

Violet squeezes her eyes shut and drops her head towards the floor.

Clementine's voice reaches out to her.

"Hey," she asks, "are you okay?"

Violet doesn't know how to answer truthfully. She curls her fingers into the palm of her hand, hard enough to feel her nails dig into the flesh. She's upset and angry. She's scared, and her heart is beating against her chest. And when she finally chooses to reply, her voice comes out cracked and warped and doesn't sound anything like her own.

"I just don't know how we got into this mess," she says. "A few months ago everythin' seemed to be going back to normal, and we were happy, and now?" She looks up. Clementine is watching courteously. "Everythin''s fucked up. Marlon lied to us."

"We're gonna make it better."

"No."

Clementine doesn't move. Neither does Violet.

It's difficult to wrap her head around. Marlon  _ had  _ lied – and yet they seemed far worse off now. The blinkers had been lifted, their naivety and innocence stripped and they were faced, at last, with the reality of the situation. It's impossible in some ways not to blame Clementine for the upheaval, because at least before they'd had the illusion of safety.

But Clementine had always been right. And Brody had known, too, that none of them were truly safe if the price of that was sacrifice.

Suddenly it all seems like too much.

"Fuck, damnit –"

Violet aims a kick at the skirting board and begins to pace in front of the window again.

"It's not over, Vi," Clementine tells her, without moving, as if she's read Violet's mind. "We're not going to lose them."

Violet shakes her head frantically.

"I don't know what to think," she says. The fear that's been gnawing at her stomach for the past few hours seems to have eaten it's way up, and now it's set on coming out of her mouth, like bile, and Violet can't stop. "I wanna tell them, you know, that I've got some sort of plan – that'll we'll figure it out – but I can't –"

"Violet…"

"I don't have  _ any _ plan," she whispers desperately, "I don't know what to do anymore!" And Violet feels her voice break here, and wheels around with a sudden urgency. "Clem," she says, "I don't want them to see it. We've got to get our friends back – we – goddamn, I've got to –"

But Clementine is already crossing the room, and she grips Violet's upper arms with surprising strength, as if she means to shake the panic right out of her.

"They're not going to see it!" Clementine tells her forcefully.

"God," Violet cries, "shit!"

"I've got you."

"Shit!"

For a moment she still tries to struggle away, twisting as she feels the beginnings of tears brimming out of frustration and fear. Violet never cries – or at least that is the idea she presents to the world – and the idea that Clementine might see her tears and shatter the illusion is far too much for her to bear.

But Clementine holds tight and drags Violet back into the enclosure of her arms. She smells like smoke, and sweat and blood, but she's warm and solid and reminds Violet again, "I swear I'm not going anywhere!"

And there, eventually, Violet surrenders, and gasps brokenly into Clementine's shoulder.

They stand like that for several minutes.

"Tomorrow we'll gather everyone together," Clementine begins to explain, as one hand rubs gently over Violet's back, "and we'll get our friends home, to where they're safe... and we'll be safe... and we won't have to be afraid again..."

"They think I'm going to lead them," Violet whispers.

"I didn't say it'd be easy."

Actually, it's the hardest thing that Violet's had to contend with since Marlon's death – taking charge when no one else had wanted to. The image of his falling body, terrified eyes bulging as the bullet ripped through his cranium, flashes again to the front of her mind and Violet stuffs her nose deeper into the collar of Clementine's jacket in an effort to shield herself.

Marlon hadn't been given the choice either.

"From the minute I put myself in between you and that gun," she says, "these kids have looked to me, and now they're clingin' to the idea that I know what I'm doing. But I don't. I  _ had  _ to step up. And now I'm thinkin' that everything's wrong, and if they see it..." Violet's lip trembles again. She digs her nails harder into Clementine's shoulder. "I'm scared, Clem," she says. "I don't know if I'm what they need. Aasim, maybe... even Louis... but they're gone, and I don't know if we'll get them back."

But the fight has long since abandoned her, and **** neither Violet's anger nor her panic cannot surpass the exhaustion that's overtaken.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I know this is a lot." 

Clementine simply nods in understanding and gives Violet one last squeeze before drawing away. She doesn't need to say anything else. Violet tries to mirror the small, sad little smile that she's got on her face instead, in spite of herself, knowing that it's unconvincing.

"Marlon really fucked us," she says bitterly, as she swallows down the last of her tears. __ "And now he's dead, and he doesn't even have to take responsibility."

Her eyes fall back to the blood that's matted into Clementine's fringe and Violet thinks of Abel, in the basement, and of Brody with her head split open. She has to remind herself once again that she isn't Marlon, and neither is Clementine.

They'll never be like him.

"We're gonna be okay, Violet."

They'll never be raiders.

Slowly she pulls away, and turns to look back out of the window. There is the faintest touch of morning light beginning to creep over the tops of the trees, and the courtyard below is hazy and grey beneath the dust from the fire. Mitch is lying cold on the ground somewhere in the darkness, beneath an old sheet that they'd dragged out of the wreckage. And their friends are out there too, somewhere, beyond the pines.

No one else is going to die. Violet isn't going to let them down. She's going to bring them home – Aasim and Omar, and Louis, and Sophie and Minnie as well if she can.

When she can.

She wonders if they're thinking of her now, as longingly as she is of them.

"Clem..." she says.

She can still feel the warmth of Clementine's hand hanging down beside hers and tentatively Violet reaches out. There's barely even an inch between them, but Clementine closes the rest of the gap herself, latching their fingers together without a word.

Maybe it's selfish, or trivial even to wonder. Maybe it's best to keep her distance, Violet thinks, in case either one of them doesn't make it through. But it seems very important, with all that's happened, to find something sweet to hold on to. Something good. And so Violet asks, because she mightn't get another chance.

“Are you my girlfriend?"

Clementine's eyes widen into saucepans as she looks up.

“What?”

“You don't have to – I mean –"

“I wanted to kiss you,” Clementine tells her, blinking as if it’s obvious. “I thought – is that not the same thing?”

“Oh,” Violet breathes.

She can feel the heat creeping over her ears.

All of her fear, her panic, her shame, guilt, anger – overridden, for a split second, as Clementine smiles at her. It takes a moment for Violet to remember that Clementine had never had a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, or anything remotely similar and her stomach coils tight at the thought; pushes her heart up into her throat. Just for a moment. Like pins and needles.

Clementine had already decided, hours ago, that they were an item, and Violet couldn't ask for anything more.

"Yeah," she says eventually, "I guess it is."

Clementine tugs lightly at her hand.

“Let’s get some sleep,” she says. "It's almost morning."

"Don't you think we should wait up?"

She'd give anything to stand a while longer. Violet knows she'll have to walk past all of those empty rooms, and open doors, and graffiti left three years ago by someone long since dead, and though her body is aching she doesn't think that she can face it tonight. She wants to stay here, holding hands with the girl she loves. She needs the anchorage; a warmer body.

But she stifles a yawn and Clementine sees it.

The reality is there’s just too much to do, too many people to care for in the morning, to warrant running on zero hours sleep. Clementine seems to understand, because she leans gently into Violet's shoulder and squeezes her hand that little bit tighter.

"AJ will be missing me," she says, by ways of explanation.

With a sigh, Violet nods. 

They leave their plans and maps scattered over the table, and step over the charred wood and broken glass, and all of the rubble from the earlier fight. Violet only lets their hands drop when they reach the doorway and Clementine has to pull whatever’s left of it back across the threshold. The frame screeches out in loud protest, but the corridors are otherwise silent.

When they turn to go their separate ways, Violet has only one more question:

"In the mornin'," she says, "will any of this be different?"

Clementine's booted foot pauses halfway into her room, open palm settling above the door handle.

"Everything," she says, "but none of it for the worst."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank u Lauren, again, for being my Beta.


End file.
